


Stronger

by goatFanatic



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: AU, Campbell is a shit person, Child Death, Fusion, Gen, ahem i mean justice, and they're out for revenge, ghost au, jasper is just as devious as max, max///vid shippers don't touch, weird ghost dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 04:31:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20482916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goatFanatic/pseuds/goatFanatic
Summary: Max may be dead, but that doesn't mean he's gone.  And he's going to make sure that that is known.  With the help of Jasper and a little bit of a supernatural advantage, he's going to make sure that the person behind it gets what he deserves.Or, Camp Campbell gets a new counselor, and Cameron Campbell learns to fear ghosts.





	Stronger

Max opened his eyes slowly, his vision still fuzzy around the edges.

With a deep breath, he pushed himself into a sitting position, trying to remember just where he was.  _ Think, think, think… _

The cover of trees and darkness told him that this wasn’t camp. He looked around the small clearing, trying to find some kind of clue‒ trees everywhere, grass all around him, a log laying across the forest floor. The ground beneath him felt barely there, almost like he was floating…

He looked down to see that his hand was firmly on the loose dirt of the ground below him. Loose, like someone had been digging. He stood up and dusted himself off and shivered, rubbing his hands together. Though he didn’t feel particularly cold, his hands were numb.

Max examined the plot of dirt beneath his feet. Freshly dug, clearly. About two feet wide, four feet long, curving up in the middle. He knelt down and put his hand to the dirt, a pit forming in his stomach. There was something about the size and shape of the patch that made him… uneasy. If he didn’t know any better, he would have said it was a grave. He pushed. The dirt didn’t give.

The unease turning to horror, he pushed deeper into the dirt. His hand disappeared, but the dirt didn’t move. More urgently, he used his other hand to rip at the dirt, but, again, it wouldn’t budge. His hands seemed to just go right through it, not even making a dent.

Out of sheer frustration, Max slammed his head against the dirt, only to go right through it. He opened his eyes, his head still underground, and saw…

Himself.

Not a mirror. It was him. Pale, eyes closed, arms folded over his chest. His hoodie was down, revealing black bruises which formed a ring around his neck. He let out a scream of horror and leapt away from the grave, shaking, his eyes wide. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be down there, he was here. He was here and he was breathing and he was… Numb.

He touched his face and looked down at himself, realizing how he’d been able to push through the ground, realizing how, if he focused, he could feel the blades of grass beneath him poking into his feet, not bending under his weight like they should have. He realized how, despite just being facedown in the dirt, he was completely clean, how even though the wind seemed to go straight through him, he wasn’t bothered.

Max was dead. Now what?

If he was dead, he had to have died somehow. Last he remembered, he was on Spooky Island looking for a place to bury the money he’d won from Preston- he couldn’t let Nurf steal it. He saw Campbell, heard him talking with someone on the phone. Campbell spotted him, he reached over and-

Max grabbed his neck, remembering the feeling of hands around it. So that’s what had happened. He’d seen too much, heard too much, and Campbell had…

He grabbed his neck and took a breath in‒ the air around him stirred, but just went right through him. He shivered.

His horror was quickly replaced with anger as he stood up from the dirt, dusting himself off‒ well, that didn’t do anything. He sighed and began to pace the clearing, mumbling.

“So, I’m dead. But I’m a ghost- ghosts can talk to people. I just need to find a way to get away from Spooky Island‒” he flinched as lightning struck in front of him. “I just need to find a way to get to Camp Campbell. I’ll find David, and I’ll tell him what happened, and then…”

And then what? Would Campbell even go to jail at this point? Would Neil and Nikki mourn? Would his parents? Did he even  _ want _ to pass on. Heaven sounded boring, and Hell sounded like… well, hell.

“It’s not like I can even get to camp either. It took Jasper‒”

His eyes widened. Jasper! Jasper was on the island too. He had to be around here somewhere, and he knew more about this ghost thing than Max did. He took a deep breath and started on his way into the woods. If he was going to fix this, it wouldn’t be alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Woohoo, finally got this started. If you've made it to this point, please leave some kudos, and remember comments are much appreciated!


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